Chapter 4


Buffy was distracted by thoughts of William all day. After lunch, she claimed she had a killer headache, and asked if she could please get the rest of the day off. Mr. Smith was more than happy to give a half day to his "favorite employee" and even offered to pay her for a full day. For the millionth time, she thanked her lucky stars she that she found such a nice, understanding person to work for.

Buffy stopped at Wal-Mart on the way home. She needed to pick up some extra food, and stuff for William. She didn't know what, exactly, William would need, but she was sure she could figure it out as she shopped. She wandered up and down the aisles, doing her best to dodge screaming children and women who randomly pushed their carts around, heedless of any human obstacles in front of them. She masterfully negotiated through the maze of products she didn't need, until she reached the beauty and hygiene section.

He would need razors, right? She certainly couldn't share her razors with him. And he would need a toothbrush, shampoo, clothes…the more Buffy thought about it, the more overwhelmed she felt. Finally she just resorted to randomly throwing objects into the cart. She could bring anything back that she didn't need.

After she got home, she spent the rest of the afternoon preparing her bedroom for William and cleaning the house. She did so half-heartedly, her mind a million miles away. Images of William and Spike whirled in front of her eyes. William. Spike. Spike. William. Buffy could remember exactly what William looked like the night before, down to the last detail. He was Spike, but at the same time, he wasn't. The paradox sent her head spinning, and she eventually decided it would be wise to not think about it at all.

When Dawn got home, she mostly ignored Buffy and focused on her homework, but occasionally she would look up and glare at her sister. She didn't bother offering to help Buffy clean the house, and didn't make a move to get up when Buffy reminded her it was her turn to make dinner. Buffy was picking up distinct vibes of resentment and anger from her sister, but she didn't understand why. She didn't have time to talk to Dawn about it though.

"Are you going to get him now?" Dawn asked coolly when Buffy grabbed her purse and her keys.

"I am."

"I'm going to Lisa's house."

"Dawn, you can't go out. It's a school night."

"I don't want to be here when you get back."

"Dawn, what is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?"

"Because I…you know what? Forget about it, you wouldn't understand anyway."

"Well, make understand then," Buffy invited.

"I'm out of here. I'm spending the night at her place."

"Dawn you…" the door slammed hard enough to shake the pictures on the wall, "can't. Shit."

Buffy was honestly perplexed by Dawn's reaction, but she knew chasing after her wouldn't do any good. Dawn was notoriously mule-headed and there would be no talking until Dawn was ready.

~*~

Angel simply did not know what to do with this human, drugged to the gills, looking like Spike, passing in and out of consciousness, screaming, mumbling about his mother, reciting poetry, and crying. What does one do in these situations? He didn't trust anybody else to sit up with William, but he certainly didn't want to spend more minute dealing with this particular brand of insanity.

The bite on his neck wasn't healing, and this concerned Dr. Roberts greatly. A small trickle of blood leaked out of the punctures, and it refused to scab over. Angel had to change the bandage every hour, and each time, the potent elixir of William's blood—fear and confusion-- made his head spin and his eyes water. He just wanted one little taste. It didn't help that he could still smell Drusilla all over the bite mark. The smell transported him back to the night William was turned—what a disaster that was.

Drusilla knew how to turn vampires, and did so on a regular basis. The problem was, Drusilla got distracted from William after only giving him a sip of blood. Enough to make him hungry. He started thrashing around in the ally, desperate for more blood, Dru started screaming and attracting attention, blood got everywhere, and Darla was pissed. Angelus did his best to quiet everybody down before the police showed up, but Dru didn't want to leave her new prize behind. She started sobbing wildly and tearing and Angelus to escape him. Finally he let her go, fed William from his own wrist, then quickly found a place for all of them to hole up for a few days.

Now the young man that he molded into a vampire over a century ago was in his office, and, not for the first time, Angel cursed his luck. He didn't want to know the man behind the monster. He didn't want a first row seat to see the kind of person Spike really was, to see the kind of person he could have become if he had never met Drusilla. William would be yet another constant reminder of what an animal Angelus was.

~*~

William's world tilted and whirled, full of bleeding colors, disembodied voices, and smirking faces. He was in two worlds at once, aware of the people moving around his body, and unable to escape the demons in his mind. Events, people, conversations, dreams, all blended together until he didn't know what was real and what was not. He didn't care either.

There were two images, however, that remained crystal clear, even if he couldn't place who they were or how he knew them; the dark haired beauty he met in the ally, and the blonde who called him Spike. They floated in and out of his mind in harsh clarity, and he felt as though he could remember every single detail of their faces.

The pain was still there, but it was as distant as his memories. It lingered, but William could disassociate himself from it. He could examine it, turn it over in his hands, toss it aside, and move on. It felt odd to consider the pain to be a truly solid object to be thrown away, but in William's delirium it made perfect sense.

One thing that could not be tossed aside was the fear. Despite the heavy use of tranquilizers, William had not calmed down. In fact, the screams of terror lurked just below the surface. It was her voice that finally pulled him out of his haze,  and pushed the terror back.

~*~

"What the hell did you do to him?" Buffy demanded.

"We gave him some tranquilizers, Buffy, we had to."

"He looks horrible. Is he sick? I thought the doctor was going to make him better."

"He looks better than he did last night. But we can't get the bite to stop bleeding."

"Why did you have to give him tranquilizers?"

"Every time he woke up, he went hysterical," Angel explained. "He must have been afraid."

"Well, wouldn't you be?"

"Are you really going to take him home with you tonight? I still don't think that's a good idea."

"If I leave him here, you guys will just dope him up. I can help him." William stirred as she spoke, and she placed a reassuring hand on his forehead. "He needs me."

"Buffy, he isn't Spike."

"Well, thank you for reminding me again, Angel. What would I do without you? Let's get him to my car before he wakes up."

"And what if he wakes up while he's in the car? How are you going to control him and drive at the same time?"

Buffy sighed and collapsed on the chair next to the bed. "Angel, I don't get it. I don't get why you are so upset, and I don't get why Dawn is so angry with me. I know this is my fault, ok? My mistake, I get it. Buffy messed up big time. I'm trying to fix it, and all I get is grief."

"What's wrong with Dawn?"

"I don't know. She's furious with me. Won't even talk to me. Can you just help me out please?"

Angel understood that there was no point in arguing with her anymore. He stated his opinion, and she chose to ignore it. Which is usually how it worked between them. There really wasn't anything else he could say.

They worked together silently to get William out of bed, and then Angel carried him down to her car.

"Where's he going to sleep?"

"In my bed," Buffy answered. "I'm taking the couch for now."

Angel deposited William in the backseat, and Buffy made sure he was buckled in. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, I think I've got everything under control."

"If you're sure. Call me if you need anything."

"I will," Buffy promised.

"And Buffy? Be careful."

"I will, I will."

The ride home passed without incident, and Buffy got William up to bed without too much trouble. He remained mostly asleep the whole time, though more than once he woke up to mumble words that didn't even make sense. Buffy sat on the edge of the bed and watched him sleep, unable to look away.

He wasn't quite as pale anymore, and his cheeks had the rosy kiss of life. It was slightly disconcerting to see Spike's face look well and truly alive, to see him breathing, to see his hair its natural shade of honey-brown. She felt as though she could study him for hours, comparing and contrasting him to the demon she once knew.

It was while Buffy was gazing longingly at William for something he didn't have that he woke up. The shout that was dancing at the tip of his tongue dried up on his lips at the sight of her. She looked so…lost. Like she was missing something more valuable than any diamond, and there was no hope in finding it. Poems. He wanted to write poems for her, to make her happy, to help her find what she had lost.

William didn't dare open his mouth. He didn't dare move or speak at all, afraid that this spell would be broken, and the paralyzing fear would come back. Who was she? Did she even see him? She was looking directly at him, and yet, she didn't give any indication that she saw him at all. So, William let her stare unseeingly at him, while he began the slow, tedious process of piecing together his broken thoughts.


He still couldn't remember everything clearly, but he had the feeling that for now, it was best that he couldn't. There were still unfamiliar sounds surrounding him, and things he had never seen before, but for the first time since he woke up the night before, he felt like he had a bit of control over himself. As long as he just took it one breath at a time, he could hold things together.

When he finally felt ready, he opened his mouth. No sounds came out, so he closed it. He opened it again, and again, so stray screams crept from the back of his throat. This was good. This meant that he would be able to talk sooner, rather than later. Finally, gathering his nerve, he opened his mouth for a third time. "Miss?"

Buffy's eyes focused. "Oh, you're awake," she exclaimed. "How do you feel? Do you need anything? Feel free to ask. Does your neck hurt? Do you want me to change your bandages?"

William was slightly taken aback from her excitement and babbling. "Um, I'm fine Miss?"

"Buffy Summers. Call me Buffy."

He smiled shyly than introduced himself as William Smith. Buffy could tell he would have liked to say more, but he looked very tired and his eyes darted around nervously.

"William, I know you're scared. I would be too, in your situation. But it looks like you need more to adjust." She stood up. "I'm just going to go get something…"

William grabbed her hand, weakly. "No! I mean, can you stay? Please?"

"Yeah, I can stay. No problem."

"Where…where am I?"

Buffy sighed, "William, it's a very long story. I think maybe I should wait until you're a bit stronger before I tell you."

William thought that about silently for several seconds. Buffy wisely kept her mouth shut as he worked through his thoughts. "I think I would like to know," he finally said.

"You're in my apartment, in Los Angeles, California. In America."

"I'm in America? Are there any cowboys or outlaws?" He sounded almost eager.

She smiled, "Not the kind you're thinking of. William, you are in the year 2004."

The announcement was met with shocked silence as he tried to process the news. "I think…I think I would like some time alone," he finally mumbled.

"Are you sure?"

He nodded.

"That's fine. I'm just in the next room, call me if you need anything."

"I…I will."

William leaned back on the bed, shaken to his core. He finally understood what was going on. Whatever happened at the party had driven him completely insane.